


theoretical

by squilf



Category: Alien Quadrilogy (Movies), Alien Series
Genre: Counter Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top, our synthetic boyfriend wants to lose his virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squilf/pseuds/squilf
Summary: Bishop has some basic programming on sexual intercourse. He’s never used it. He wants you to teach him how.Bishop x Female Reader.
Relationships: Lance Bishop/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	theoretical

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’m back again pretty quickly with another Bishop x reader fic! And this time, it’s almost 4k of pure smut.
> 
> This is based on an anonymous prompt I got sent on tumblr: _Bishop/reader, bishop's first time, the reader concentrates on his reactions, curious, he is not totally passive though, towards the end he fucks her hard_
> 
> I feel like I already kind of filled this prompt with my fic [electric](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24162385/), but obviously I had to fill it properly. (As it were. Ahem.)

“Does this… do anything for you?”

You’re in the _USS Sulaco_ ’s navigation room, under a universe of stars and on top of a certain synthetic.

“What do you mean?” said synthetic – Executive Officer Lance Bishop – asks you.

You’ve been meeting up like this for a while. It started innocently enough. Late into the night shift, he’d take you here, where it’s dark and quiet and a huge window stretches out above you, and tell you about the stars outside. Then it turned into sitting in his lap in the pilot’s chair while he talked, and _that_ turned into… well, you’re still in his lap, but you don’t do a lot of talking. But you want to talk this evening. You have things you want to ask.

“Well,” you say, “If I was doing this with a human man –”

“Please don’t,” Bishop says.

“It might get him… excited,” you continue.

“Do you mean sexual arousal?”

You can’t help but smile at him translating everything into medical terms, completely unembarrassed.

“Can you – get hard?” you ask, stumbling over your words, “Or is that not… do you not…”

“My anatomy was modelled entirely on my creator Michael Bishop,” Bishop says, “I can trigger an erection after a certain threshold of intimate consensual physical contact.”

“Oh. Have we never crossed the threshold?”

“Many times. But it’s not an automatic process. It just seemed a little presumptuous.”

You laugh.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been presumptuous. I’m the one who kissed you first, remember?”

“I do. Often.”

You have to kiss him for that. He smiles against your mouth, and you can just _tell_ that was the reason why he said it. Bishop can talk to you for hours, but when you start kissing, he doesn’t want to stop. It makes it very hard to do anything but kiss him. Which is kind of the opposite of a problem.

But still, kissing him makes you _feel_ things, and you want to know if it makes Bishop feel things, too. Your underwear’s already soaked through, but despite being pressed up against his body, you can’t feel anything that suggests he’s as into this as you are.

“Does this,” you say, when your lips eventually break away from his, “Um, arouse you?”

“Sexual arousal is a biological function,” Bishop says, “So, not as such. I don’t have a libido. The only reason I have a functioning penis is to pleasure other crewmates, when explicitly requested.”

“But…” you say, “You do _like_ this?”

Bishop raises an eyebrow.

“What do you think?”

You like it when he talks back. He’s usually so quiet and polite, a typical synthetic just following orders – but every now and then, his personality comes out. You see this side of him a lot more now.

“I’m not sure,” you say coyly, playing with the collar of his flightsuit.

He drags you closer and kisses you. You squeal delightedly, and it’s muffled by his mouth.

“I like this,” Bishop says, “I like you. I like doing this with you.”

“You make a convincing argument,” you say.

“I’m not finished making it yet,” Bishop says, his fingers lazily running up and down your back.

You groan a little, because that feels really good and he _knows_ it.

“I do, too,” you say, “Like you, that is. And this.”

“So, was there a reason why you wanted to ask about my penis?”

“As it happens, I was wondering if you’d like to put it in me,” you say, as offhandedly as you can.

Bishop shrugs with one shoulder.

“I don’t have anything else on.”

You blush.

“I didn’t mean _tonight_. I just wanted to get your opinion.”

“My opinion is that we should have sexual intercourse tonight,” he says, his expression completely serious.

“ _Bishop_ ,” you say, swatting at him good-naturedly.

“I’m ready and willing. Whenever you want me.”

You whine.

“Don’t _say_ that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me want to get naked and do things to you.”

“I don’t see the problem there,” Bishop says, his voice low.

You bite your lip.

“Have you ever done it before?”

You’re pretty sure he hasn’t been with anyone but you. You’re not a jealous lover, but still, you hope he hasn’t. You’ve heard stories about how some crews treat their synthetics.

“There is some basic programming, but I’ll admit my understanding is theoretical,” Bishop says.

You nod, a little relieved.

“I _was_ hoping you’d teach me,” he adds, “I’m good at taking direction.”

You definitely weren’t prepared for how good he was going to be at seducing you when you started this conversation. He leans up as if to kiss you, but you don’t let him get that far.

“It’s just,” you say, “Your first time should be special.”

“It’s you,” he says simply.

He looks up at you with those big dark eyes, and he’s so goddamn cute, so fucking perfect, and it’s near impossible to deny him anything. You tilt your head and meet his lips with yours. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, and you desperately want him closer.

“How do you want it?” you ask, a little breathless.

“Can it be like this?”

You smile, a little surprised.

“You want me on top?”

“I want to see your face.”

“Okay,” you say, “Um. Clothes off.”

Bishop unzips his flightsuit from neck to crotch with impressive speed. He leans forwards and you help him wriggle out of the sleeves, yanking the top half down.

“I think I’ll need you to…” Bishop says.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, clambering to your feet.

You pull your flightsuit down to your ankles, then realise you can’t get it off without taking your boots off first. You unlace them hastily and kick them off, then stumble out of your clothes, down to your underwear. You pull off your socks one by one, hopping as you do it. When you look up, Bishop’s already naked, a pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to him.

“Oh, _hello_ ,” you say, your eyes roving over his body.

“You did say clothes off.”

“Mmm, I did.”

You put your thumb to your lips. You’ve seen him shirtless before – _thank you_ , hypersleep chambers – but you’ve never been able to get a proper look. You were surprised then at his physique, expecting him to be skinnier, but there’s some muscle on him. You’ve felt it since then, his arms strong around you, his stomach taut but soft – but you can see it all now. Bishop lies back on the pilot’s seat, unashamed, letting you have your fill. He doesn’t have a lot of body hair, just a dusting around his cock, which is hard and arching up towards his stomach invitingly.

“Alright?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, “Very.”

Bishop takes hold of the hem of your vest.

“You wore this when we went into hypersleep.”

You gasp in mock surprise.

“You were _looking_?”

“It may be one of the more well-played images in my memory bank,” he says, looking a little bashful.

“Oh really?” you say, “Maybe I’ll give you a new one.”

You pull your vest off over your head and step out of your knickers. Any self-consciousness you feel is quickly dampened by the way Bishop is staring at you, his mouth slightly open.

“Alright?” you ask.

“ _Please_ sit on me.”

You do as you’re told, climbing into his lap. He gasps as your skin makes contact and his hands run over you urgently, like he wants to touch all of you at once. You trail your fingers down his chest, to his stomach. His skin is supple and hot, and you’d never be able to tell it was synthetic. You pause before you go any lower.

“Don’t stop,” Bishop says.

You reach down and take hold of his cock. He makes a little noise, watching what you’re doing intently. You move, not too hard, jerking his cock slowly. It feels good in your hand, hot and heavy and a nice size. You can tell you’re going to feel it, but you can take it easily. There’s precum beading at the tip – huh, Michael Bishop apparently made his synthetics _very_ realistic – and you smear it with your thumb. Bishop’s eyes go wide and his head falls back against the headrest.

“Is that good?” you ask.

“Can – ah – can we have intercourse now?”

“You wanna feel if I’m wet enough for you?”

You know you are – you have been for a while, but you want Bishop to feel it. He raises his head. He looks so wrecked already, his eyes glassy and unfocused. You guide his hand down to your pussy. He pushes one finger gently between your lips.

“Oh,” Bishop says, “ _Oh_.”

He adds another finger, rubbing against you with no real rhythm or aim, just feeling you where you’re hot and slick.

“You get me so wet,” you admit, “All the time.”

“Will I fit?” he asks.

You take his hand and push his fingers up, so he’s inside you.

“ _That_ is where your cock goes,” you say.

He moves his fingers deeper, up to the knuckles.

“Bishop!” you cry, your hands flat on his chest.

“You feel so tight,” he says.

“That gorgeous cock will stretch me open.”

Bishop looks up at you, his eyes soft.

“Will it hurt?”

“No, you won’t hurt me, baby,” you say, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

He slips his fingers out of you, moving them to his lips and sucking them.

“How’d I taste?” you ask.

“I can’t really _taste_ ,” he says, “But my sensors can detect chemical compositions. I can tell the pH of your vaginal lubrication is 4.0, which is within the healthy range.”

You feel a wave of fondness towards him. Trust Bishop to give you a medical at a time like this.

“That’s good to hear,” you say, “Can I sit on your cock now?”

You know you could probably do with some more fingering, but you don’t have the patience for it. Besides, you won’t mind feeling Bishop’s cock just that little bit more.

“My programming dictates that I must inform you sexual intercourse with a synthetic cannot transmit sexually transmitted infections, or cause pregnancy.”

“I understand,” you say.

“And I must obtain your verbal consent.”

“I would like to make love to you, Bishop,” you say.

He smiles.

“I’d like that too.”

You grasp onto his cock again, holding it against your pussy. The tip of his cock rubs against your clit, and it feels good, but you don’t want to play. You need more right now – you both do. You raise yourself up on your knees, positioning yourself over Bishop’s cock, and then you start to lower yourself down, as slowly as you can.

You feel him breach you, feel yourself stretching open deliciously to accommodate him, and you hum in pleasure. You let go of his cock – it doesn’t need any more help to make its way inside you – and put both your hands on his shoulders as you inch your way down. Bishop watches intently as his cock disappears inside you, until you’ve taken it all in. He takes hold of your hips, as if steadying himself, and his eyes flutter shut.

“How does that feel?” you ask.

“Hot,” he says, “Tight.”

“Is it okay if I move?” you ask.

You’re trying hard not to squirm. Just sitting there with his cock in you is making you desperate for friction. Bishop opens his eyes.

“You want to get off me?”

“No, I don’t want to stop,” you say, “I want to carry on.”

He frowns.

“There’s more?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you say, “They really didn’t cover a lot in your programming, did they?”

It breaks your heart a little, that Bishop doesn’t really know what sex is, what to expect from you, from this. But you can’t help it when your hips stutter forwards.

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to –”

Bishop’s hands tighten on you.

“Do that again,” he says.

You move, a slow, careful roll of your hips.

“Yeah?” you say.

“Again,” Bishop says.

You shift your weight forwards, rocking on his cock. It’s not fully inside you at this angle, but that doesn’t bother you when your clit is rubbing against him with every thrust. It means you can cup his face in your hands and kiss him. Bishop loves to be kissed – he _deserves_ to be kissed. He whimpers, opening his mouth and letting you slide your tongues together. You make it slow and messy, the way he likes it best, and he moans, his hands slipping down from your hips to your arse. He doesn’t pull you, doesn’t try to make you go faster, just holds you.

It almost makes you want to cry, the intimacy of it all. You feel vulnerable but held, safe. You weren’t expecting to feel so emotional. It might be Bishop’s first time, but it’s also your first time with Bishop. And you are crazy about him. You probably underestimated how much this would mean to you.

“Do you like this?” you whisper against his mouth.

“Yes,” he says, “More.”

“You want it harder?”

You shift back, putting your hands on his chest for leverage, and settle yourself fully on his cock. You set up a new rhythm, taking him faster and deeper than before. You can feel the full length of him this way, and fuck, his cock _fills_ you and stretches you and presses against the best spots inside you.

“Fuck,” you say.

Bishop surges forwards, wrapping those strong arms around your back and pressing his forehead against yours. It’s what you need. You need him close. You need him to feel what you’re feeling, to know exactly how good it is. You throw your arms around his neck, squeeze your eyes shut, and ride him with all you’ve got. The world narrows down to the motion of you bouncing on Bishop’s cock, your swollen clit grinding against his stomach, and you can’t stop, you can’t stop.

“Bishop, I think I’m gonna come,” you sob.

Bishop leans in and kisses your lips, his hands in your hair. It’s too much, much too much, and you come with a strangled cry, your whole body tense against him. You exhale sharply, coming down from the high, your thighs shaking. You feel wrung out and unsteady, and you bury your face in Bishop’s neck, letting him pet your hair.

“Oh my God,” you groan.

“Was that okay?” Bishop asks.

You look up at him. He looks a little unsure, like he’s not sure if that was how it was meant to be for you. You’re still breathing hard and damp with sweat. There’s a wonderful tiredness settling into your bones, but you’re not done with Bishop just yet. You want him to feel like this, too.

“Really good,” you pant, “ _You’re_ really good.”

“I don’t think I did much.”

“You just made me come,” you say indignantly.

“You achieved orgasm?”

You laugh, punch-drunk.

“Yeah. That was definitely an orgasm.”

“Oh,” Bishop says, “It looked… nice.”

You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It was. Very, very nice.”

Bishop smiles. He looks somewhat pleased with himself, and he ought to.

“Your turn now,” you say, “What do you need?”

“I want… I want to move,” he says.

He bucks up into you a little, and you inhale sharply. You’ve barely recovered from your orgasm, still oversensitive, but the feeling of his cock, hard and insistent, is enough to make you think about going again.

“You want to fuck me, sweetheart?” you ask.

Bishop nods silently. He doesn’t look flushed – he can’t, his blood isn’t red – but you can tell he’s a little shy, unable to tell you, maybe unable even to _know_ , just what he wants.

“I can get off and switch places?” you suggest.

His hands tighten around your waist, pinning you in place.

“No,” he says, “Need to be inside you.”

You smile.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

“Good,” he says, and picks you up.

You laugh in surprise, wrapping your legs around him and holding on. He carries you over to the console like you weigh nothing and sets you down on it. The reinforced window stretches out above you, a pattern of stars and reflected lights. You sit back, trying not to touch too many buttons, but then Bishop moves into you – just gently, experimentally – and your hands slam down on the console, grasping for something, _anything_ to hold onto.

“Bishop!” you cry.

He stills, staring down at where your bodies are joined, and he looks like he’s concentrating, trying to figure it out.

“Can I get any deeper?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say.

He reaches behind himself and takes hold of your left foot, gently lifting it up to his shoulder. He kisses your ankle and shifts his hips forwards just a little, and it knocks the air out of you. He is deep like this, deeper than you’ve felt him so far.

“Oh,” you say, “ _Bishop_.”

His breath hitches, and he curls his hands around your thighs and drives his cock the whole way into you.

“Fuck!” you cry.

Bishop stops exactly where he is, his eyes locking onto yours. You’ve always loved that about him: the way that he looks at you and _sees_ you. His gaze is steady, grounding. It’s not the tender look of a human lover. He sees you as you are, your flaws and weaknesses, every part of you. And he still wants you.

“Does that hurt?” he asks.

“No, no,” you say urgently, “It’s good, so good, baby, please keep going.”

Bishop doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts rocking into you, not pulling out too far before he pushes back in. It’s soft but deliberate, and you love, you _love_ feeling him this far inside you.

“Yeah, that’s it,” you say, “Nice and hard for me. Make me feel it.”

Bishop speeds up, and you practically scream with pleasure.

“You want more?” he asks, and you could swear he’s smirking.

You must look a state – lips red and swollen from kissing, your whole body trembling and flushed, breasts shaking with every thrust – and Bishop is watching it all. You think he likes what he sees.

“Yes, Bishop, harder,” you gasp.

And that’s when he starts pounding you. The pace is punishing but not frantic – there’s a definite rhythm, hard and fast and _good_. A human man would struggle to do this for more than a minute, except in a pornographic vid, perhaps.

“Yeah, fuck me,” you babble, “Fill me up with cum.”

“You want me to ejaculate?”

“Yeah, inside me,” you say, “Can you do that?”

Bishop nods.

“Yes,” he says, “But you – I want to make you orgasm first.”

“You already did,” you say, “It’s your turn, baby.”

“Yours again,” he says, and presses a couple of fingers to your clit.

It just takes one, two more thrusts of Bishop’s cock, so hard and so deep inside you, and the pressure of his fingers, and you’re coming. It’s intense – harder than the last time, and longer. You arch your back, wordless as the orgasm washes over you, only able to cry out after the peak of it has hit. You swear and throw your head back, and the stars outside the window are an endless map above you.

“Let me see you,” Bishop says, “Please, sweetheart.”

You lift your head and blink up at him, your eyes pricking with tears. He looks so gorgeous like this, his hair mussed, his eyes dark and fixed on you, and you adore him, you really do. Bishop pushes his hips forwards a final time, burying himself inside you, and then he freezes in place there, his mouth open, his hands holding you tight. He moans wordlessly and you feel his come pouring into you, hot and sticky.

“Yeah,” you breathe, “I got you.”

You’re both still for a moment, and then he slowly disentangles himself from you, taking your right foot off his shoulder and lowering it, pulling his cock out of you. You’re sticky with sweat, your limbs floppy from exertion, and you whine a little at the loss of contact.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bishop says quietly.

He picks you up, bridal style, and carries you back to the pilot’s seat. He sits down on it, with you curled up on his lap, and puts his arms around you. His right hand’s on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles on your leg, his left on your shoulder. You hum contentedly, pressing your face to his chest. You can’t hear a heartbeat – he doesn’t have one. It doesn’t bother you. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.

You sit there, in the quiet and the dark, just feeling the rise and fall of Bishop’s chest, the way his skin is hot and damp against yours. It’s endlessly comforting. You feel held, _safe_. Bishop reaches up to stroke your hair and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did I do okay?” he asks.

“Bishop, you did _amazing_ ,” you say, tilting your head back to look at him.

He smiles shyly, and despite everything you’ve done tonight, that makes your heart flutter. It always has.

“So, uh, how was it for you?” you ask, “Did you, er… achieve orgasm?”

Bishop slides a hand in between your legs and reaches down to your pussy, which is messy and wet, dripping with both your fluids. You moan a little as he touches you.

“Looks like it,” he says, studying the white liquid on his fingers.

You laugh, not-so-secretly delighted at how cheeky he is post-coital.

“How did it feel?” you ask.

“Like… my whole system was shutting down and starting up again.”

“Is that good?”

Bishop leans in and kisses you, very gently.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “I think we’ll have to do it again.”

“Oh really?” you say, and then you can’t say anything else because Bishop’s putting his tongue in your mouth.

He moves his hand back to your pussy, and you moan into his mouth as he smears slick over your clit.

“You know,” you say, in between kisses, “Human guys need a while to recover after sex. Or just go to sleep.”

“You’re not with a human,” Bishop says, and there’s a slight edge to his voice – pride or possessiveness, you’re not sure which.

You don’t mind. He’s earned both.

“I’m not,” you say, “I’m with you.”

Bishop smiles and pushes a couple of fingers into you and says, “Mine.”

And you think it’s time to stop talking.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the horniest reader-insert fic I’ve written so far… Do drop me a comment if you liked it! You’re also welcome to [send me a prompt](https://squilf.tumblr.com/ask) but I do have quite a few now, and they will take a lil while to work through. Thank you all so much for the support! When I started writing these, I never thought so many people would share my love for the artificial fave.


End file.
